Dumbledore's Army: Resurrection
by Turk 4 Life
Summary: On a routine job, Sam and Dean find themselves face to face with the ghost of Albus Dumbledore. The greatest wizard of all time requests the resurrection of Fred Weasley for reasons that remain unclear. They find themselves journeying through the magical world of witches and wizards in a quest to restore Castiel's Grace to successfully bring Fred and another back to life...
1. Chapter 1

**A.N: This idea was born out of a conversation I had with a Potato friend about my feels regarding Cas' loss of Grace and Fred's death. This is a crackfic! It's not supposed to make a lot of sense. I will, however, attempt to stick to a proper story with a real plot and all that. But it will be bizarre! I hope you future readers enjoy this fic!**

**I do not own any of the characters and worlds and ideas affiliated with Supernatural and Harry Potter but the bizarre stuff that comes out of mixing the two worlds together is all mine! And partly my brother's hehe.**

**Prologue- **

It had been a while since Sam and Dean Winchester had accepted that everyone's favourite prankster/archangel had been wiped clean from existence. They often found themselves ruminating coldly over the idiotic pranks Gabriel had pulled on them. Sure, they were beyond mad when they had full awareness of Gabe's existence. However, as Dean stood beside his extremely tall baby brother Sam- he was livid. Not because Gabriel had come back- no that pain in the ass was gone for good- but because of the ancient looking ghost-man who stood before them, his eyes twinkling in unadulterated mischief as he regarded the two Winchesters.

"I have heard a lot about you boys." The old man's voice rumbled low, commanding attention in a strangely gentle way. Dean found himself reaching for a gun tucked into his waistband. He had no time to talk to delusional, stalker ghosts. He felt Sam do the same beside him.

'Twinkle' was going down.

At least, that was when Dean had thought.

'Twinkle' apparently had some other plans.

"_Accio_ salt gun!" The brothers' eyes widened at the ancient looking stick 'Twinkle' held. The ancient man-ghost's lips quirked into an amused smile as Dean's jaw dropped in disbelief. Stepping forward, the taller Winchester tilted his head to the side and hesitantly stepped forward with a bewildered grimace on his face.

"Dumbledore?" Dean shot Sam a look of disbelief.

"Just when I think you can't become more of a dork… you continue to surprise me Sammy." Sam fought the urge to roll his eyes, opting to ignore Dean and continued to stare at the old man-ghost before him.

He was confused, to say the least. Not only was a fictional character _wafting_ right in front of him- he also had a wand _and_ was able to perform magic. That never happened in the books. Sam was outraged! J.K Rowling had lied to him and the fandom! Ghosts could use magic! Dumbledore was roaming around the world and he had proof. He had Dean to prove the existence of Albus Dumbledore's ghost!

"Damn it old man! What are you doing to my baby brother?! His eyes are all glazed over!" Dean shouted, panicked. Dumbledore sighed and shook his head.

"This always happens when I show myself to muggles. You know- I thought you two would be different. But you, Mister Dean Winchester, are mentally petrified and you're little brother here is star-struck. I would have thought you two would be more professional." Dean stepped forward, his eyes narrowed and his finger pointed to the twinkle-y eyed ghost-man.

"We _are_ professionals. Now old man, tell us what the hell you want. The quicker you tell us what you want, the faster we can find your body and sent you on you merry way to Heaven- or Hell." Dumbledore chuckled and 'warmly' patted the eldest Winchester on the shoulder. Dean flinched at the chillingly numb feeling his shoulder was now experiencing. Shooting Dumbledore a strained smile, he urged him to continue his story.

"Ah, yes! I will cut to the chase, as you muggles say." Dumbledore's features took on a sombre expression. "I heard you boys can bring souls back from the dead. Is that true?" Sam's cringed in surprise at the old ghost-man's bluntness. Dean, however, was not swayed. He stepped towards Dumbledore, his lips contorted into a smirk.

"You want us to bring you back?" Dean scoffed, "What are you? Like a hundred?" Dumbledore grinned, but shook his head negative.

"I am not talking about myself. One of my students… has been taken from the mortal world before his time. He's… wreaking havoc in Heaven." Dean raised his eyebrows.

"You mean Purgatory?" Dumbledore shook his head.

"No, I mean Heaven."

"That's not right… your kind- OW! SAMMY?!" Sam brought his hand down from where he had slapped Dean over the back of the head and shrugged nonchalantly.

"You were being _rude_. And besides, witches and wizards of the wizarding world are humans. But with magical blood running through their veins! They have the talent to do extraordinary things-!"

"Yeah, okay dork. So… as you were saying Santa Claus?" Dumbledore nodded and continued, though seemingly miffed by his new nickname.

"Yes… so our dear Mr. Weasley is driving us all mad with his constant pranking. Just the other day he transfigured James into a fire hydrant whilst Sirius was in his animagus form. I'm afraid that if we don't get Fred Weasley back to his brother George… he'll continue to be a pain!" Dumbledore pulled on his extremely long beard and frowned. "I am very stressed out. My hair is thinning because I keep pulling it out. That boy will be the death of my soul!" The old man-ghost took deep breaths at the end of his tirade- on the brink of a full-blown panic attack.

Sam stepped forward, nodding solemnly at the departed Headmaster's plight.

"There, there Professor Dumbledore. I'm here…" Dean scoffed and turned away from the chick-flick moment that continued to play out before him. Tapping his foot against the stained carpet beneath his feet, he only just realised how bizarre his predicament was.

There was a ghost in his motel room, being consoled by his overly compassionate brother. To top it all off, the ghost was Albus _freaking_ Dumbledore.

Who woulda thought…?

"Okay, yeah I love you and you love me. Blah, blah, blah- I'm sorry to cut the fanboy feels short but just listen to yourself old man! You want us to bring some asshole back from the dead. But this isn't just _any_ asshole… it's an _annoying_ asshole!" Dumbledore blinked, with an almost innocent charm to his actions. Sam stood straight beside his childhood hero and sent an imploring look Dean's way.

"Dean, you're not being nice. Say sorry." Dean gaped at his brother. He would be lying if he said he wasn't creeped out by Sam's fanboy feels.

He was, indeed, severely creeped out.

"God Sam… NO!" Dean turned his gaze back to the sombre old man-ghost wafting before him. "You do realise, _professor_, that we'll need to make a deal with a demon or with Death himself to bring this _Fred_ guy back, right?" Dumbledore nodded, his face determined.

"I understand that my boy." Sam's adoring gaze turned serious as he began to process the extent of Dumbledore's request. Dumbledore turned to the taller Winchester and laid an ice cold ghost hand on Sam's upper arm, making him flinch slightly. "I wouldn't be asking if it wasn't necessary. Please boys…" He trailed off, a distant look in his clear blue eyes.

Dean sighed at the dramatic display and pulled his brother to his side roughly. He was getting sick of the phantom Headmaster.

"Dealing with a Demon when all the angels are without their grace would be suicide. We'll have to summon Death." Dean deadpanned. Dumbledore chuckled as he drew out his wand yet again.

"Not to worry- I have it all under control!" He cleared his throat and gave a flick of his wand. Dean watched on in fascination as Dumbledore worked his magic- literally. "_Accio_ Death!"

With an extremely loud 'poof', the atmosphere of the room became extremely cold and Sam and Dean felt their life forces drain slowly from their bodies. Sam shot a panicked look at the smiling Dumbledore.

"Ah, Death! How lovely to see you dear friend!" A breeze blew through the room and Dean clung onto his younger brother, shivering and muttering obscenities as the old ghost-man carried on a jolly conversation with the air beside him.

"You said you had something that would help me solve my problem." Another cold breeze. More shivering from the Winchesters.

If someone were to be watching the scene, they would have thought the Winchesters had finally lost their marbles.

"You can restore an angel's Grace?" Dean perked up at this.

"The hell? You serious? How?" Sam squinted at the air, seeing a figure forming before him. There wasn't much time left. He was so close to death- in a very literal sense.

"Oh, you have to go now? Yes… yes. I understand. Thank you, friend." The warmth returned to the room as Dumbledore turned his twinkling blue eyes back to the two gasping brothers.

Dumbledore raised an eyebrow at them.

"Are you two okay?"

Dean glared up at the ghost in distaste.

"Just peachy, thanks."

Sam slowly got back on his feet and stretched before directing his serious gaze at the majestic wizard.

"What was that about 'restoring Grace'?" Sam tilted his head to the side, his eyes taking on the qualities of child-like wonder. Dean merely continued to glare at the ghost-man.

"Death cannot assist us, as the angels are mortalised. However, he spoke of a powerful hat that belonged to Gabriel-."

Dean fought the urge to kick the senile ghost's phantom head in.

"You brought Death here- nearly killing us in the process- just so you could talk about some magical _hat_? A hat?!" Dumbledore nodded, becoming the face of seriousness once more.

"A hat that could bring your angel friend's powers back." Sam stared between the two as they spoke- still in a daze from his near death experience (A.N: Haha, geddit?!).

"Just wait one damn second old man. How do you know about Castiel?" Dumbledore sent Dean a stern gaze.

"I've met him more than once. Who do you think created the Angel Blades? Our goblins have the finest craftsmanship in all existence!" Sam gaped at this revelation.

"Goblins… made those blades?" Dumbledore smiled at his favourite suck-up.

"Yes, dear boy." Sam gaped openly at the great man standing before him.

"Wow!"

Dean nodded in appreciation before resuming his glare.

"Okay so, let's say that I believe you and your senile verbal diarrhoea. We'd have to go to England to do this job. And if you are such great friends with Cas, you'd surely know that I don't do planes." Sam sniggered, which earned him a slap across the head in return.

The phantom wizard nodded in understanding.

"Muggle transport can be quite worrisome. I understand completely. And you also like to travel in your car- am I right?" Dean's eyes widened in shock momentarily before they settled back to their glare.

"Yeah, so? I don't see any solution."

"Portkey." Sam piped up. Dean sent Sam an incredulous look.

"What-key?" Sam rolled his eyes at his older brother.

"Don't look at me like that Mr. 'Oh-my-gawd-it' '!" Dean turned away from his little brother, slightly ashamed of his guilty pleasure soap opera.

Dumbledore laughed openly and gestured towards the dingy lolly-bowl on the old wooden night stand in the room.

"A portkey will transport you and your car to the destination. Just take that bowl into your car along with everything you need and reach in for a lolly!" Dumbledore's wand lit up and his started to fade. With a slight frown, he regarded the two boys who stared intently at the lolly-bowl.

Sam looked up, alarmed.

"But sir! How do we know which one is the portkey?"

Dean reached for the bowl and held it up to Dumbledore hastily.

"I like… sherbet lemons." And with a final wink, he was gone.

Sam slowly turned to Dean, who smirked in return.

"So you got a thing for old, magical men huh?" Dean chuckled as Sam glared his way.

"Jerk." As the younger Winchester stormed off to retrieve his gear, Dean set off behind him, muttering loudly to himself.

"Bitch!" 

**Note: Reviews help Dean get over his Dr. Sexy M.D fanboy shame. It's okay to be a fanboy/girl. It really is.**


	2. Chapter 2

**A.N: It's been a long time since I updated this story and this chapter is pretty disjointed and slow-paced but I just wanted to post something for everyone who has been waiting for weeks for an update! This is only part one of three parts to this chapter- so don't worry if you are confused about why people are where they are and stuff... it will all be revealed! I will aim to update this story every Monday from now on so look forward to the development of the crack-plot. Is that even terminology? It should be. I think... anyways! ON WITH THE STORY! AND I'M SORRY AGAIN! :O**

**Chapter One-**

Dean surveyed his surroundings dizzily. He felt like he was going to be sick and with a sidelong glance at Sam he deduced that his younger brother wasn't feeling too dandy either after the activation of the portkey. Thankfully, the Impala was all in one piece- purring and ready to go.

"I'd have to kill that son-of-a-bitch if anything happened to my baby." Sniffing loudly to himself, Dean threw the sherbet lemon he was holding in his hand out the window and quite reluctantly hauled himself out of his 'baby'.

"That building looks-!" Sam began excitedly before being cut off by Dean's worried tone.

"Dude, it looks like it's going to collapse!" The older Winchester took a step into the narrow path that just barely parted the overgrown weeds around them. Gulping, Dean rounded on Sam.

"We're not going in unless we're armed. Sammy, grab a wooden stake, a shot gun with salt rounds and some silver bullets- just in case." Dean turned to survey the leaning wooden house just a few meters ahead of them. With a determined nod he walked to his trunk like a man with purpose.

Sam rolled his eyes, knowing full well what- or _who_- he'd find in that house. Despite that, he decided to humour Dean and carried through with his outrageous instructions. Better safe than sorry! Besides, Sam was positive that whoever was in the house could handle themselves just fine against a few bullets and wooden stakes.

Well, he sure hoped so.

The two brothers, after a few arguments about who got to carry the loaded gun, finally set off towards the house- not noticing a familiar looking scarecrow grinning down at them not far from the house.

Dean was a man on a mission. The faster he got Dumbledore's job done, the faster he could get back home to things that needed his attention. Like girls and food… and all that Heaven versus Hell mumbo jumbo.

Yes… he couldn't wait to get back to _that_.

Dean sighed as he reached the front door of the lopsided 'shack'. No one could have possibly been living in it. They would have surely died- along with the house.

Sam could barely contain his excitement as he stood next to his glaring brother. Of all the supernatural experiences he'd been witness to, he never expected to be meeting face to face with any of the Weasleys… and definitely not at _The Burrow_ of all places!

It was like a dream come true for the littlest Winchester.

Dean knocked hesitantly before pulling his hand back reproachfully- like he was disappointed in himself- before pulling back and kicking the door in. Sam's jaw dropped in sheer horror at his brother's display of unnecessary bravado.

"_Dean!_ What the hell?!" Dean shrugged and cocked his gun, smirking as he heard frantic footsteps sound from inside the structure.

"It's called intimidation Sam, don't ever forget it!" Dean winked before cockily walking into the Burrow, a distraught Sam following after him just in case something went wrong.

Sam nearly slapped himself.

_Of course_ something was bound to go wrong.

They were the Winchester brothers after all.

"_What in Godric's name is going on out there?_" A woman called shrilly from within. Sam and Dean both caught sight of ginger red hair and… a spatula being waved around quite dangerously in mid air. Dean ducked and fought off the urge to swear.

"Damn it! It had to be some mother hen's place we broke into, didn't it?" Sam sighed and massaged his temples with his free hand, readjusting the wooden stakes with the other arm.

"See, I was trying to tell you-."

Dean groaned and slammed his palm against Sam's moving lips, muffling the rest of his sentence.

"Shut up Sammy! They'll hear us!" Sam rolled his eyes, but complied. The younger Winchester figured that if he couldn't help his brother out, he might as well watch him screw up just a little. Sam grinned at the thought and relaxed beside his brother, keeping a 'lookout' for any more red haired, spatula wielding adversaries.

"Bloody hell! Of all the days, some prat decided to kick the door down _today_! Honestly, if it's that bloody back-packing muggle family again-!"

"Oh _shut up _Ron! I'll go see what's going on." A bossy female voice announced clearly. Dean grinned and winked at Sam who merely rolled his eyes and shielded himself with his older brother's body. This was going to be _great_!

The two Winchesters soon found themselves to be staring at a young woman with bushy, brown hair, pale skin and large brown eyes. Sam knew for a fact that the woman standing before them was no one to be trifled with, especially since she skipped looking at the door and walked right to their hiding spot, hands on her hips and silently demanding an explanation.

Dean raised his hand and waved.

"Hey there!" Sam nodded along, raising his hands in surrender.

The young woman nodded, acknowledging their greeting, adjusting her grip on her wand. The wand Sam and Dean he failed to acknowledge until just then.

"Name and purpose of your visit?" She raised her eyebrows in question. Dean gulped and answered, realising that the woman meant business.

"Mark Summers and Jim Love," Sam grimaced at the name Dean identified him with but nodded earnestly, hoping the young witch would believe him. She squinted at Dean and flicked her wand upwards. Dean let out a yelp as he was suspended in the air, upside down and dangling like a rag cloth on a clothes line. Sam fought the urge to burst into laughter as the woman turned to him with an imploring gaze.

"Real names."

"I'm Sam Winchester. He's my brother, Dean." Surprisingly for Sam, a look of recognition flashed in the woman's eyes before she abruptly let Dean down with a thump.

"Sam and Dean Winchester? Oh my, we've been waiting for you two! Well _he_ has." Dean scowled at her from his place on the floor.

"And who the hell are you, little miss sunshine?" Raising her eyebrows quizzically, the woman shoved her wand back into her pocket and held her small hand out in greeting.

"Hermione Grange- I mean, Hermione Weasley. It's a pleasure to meet you two." At that moment, a tall man with red hair and too many freckles walked into the room with a grin on his face.

"Mione, I'm telling ya ! This Cas guy's a riot." Dean's eyes widened to the size of saucers.

"Cas is _here_? Like right now?!" Hermione smiled and nodded affirmative.

"He's been waiting for you guys for a few hours," Hermione frowned, "honestly, we'd only just found him a few hours before you came and ruined the door." Dean looked over his shoulder guiltily as Sam winced.

"Sorry about that."

"Yeah," Dean grunted along with Sam, "what he said." Rolling her eyes at Dean's caveman-like behaviour, she murmured in acknowledgment before leading the two towering men behind her to their divine friend.

"- that is why I enjoy cheese and crackers." Dean and Sam smirked at each other as they caught sight of their angelic friend sitting on a messily made bed, holding a tray of cheese in front of a weary looking man with protruding ears.

"That's great! Um… you eat those crackers then." Cas nodded, his facial expression as serious as ever.

"I shall," Cas grabbed a cracker and placed a block of cheese on it before placing it into his mouth and chewing it thoughtfully.

"Cas… what the hell?!" Dean burst out, after watching his friend chew and stare off into space. Sam stepped up beside his older brother and nodded at the scared looking man who was now attempting to blend in with the comforter he was seated on.

Ignoring Dean and Castiel's argument, Sam smiled at the scared man in greeting.

"I'm Sam Winchester." The man nodded and offered his own lopsided smile.

"My name's Neville Longbottom."

Dean ceased his conversation with Cas and turned to look at the man, mirth filling his features.

"You're kidding me, right?" Sam rolled his eyes, trying his best to ignore the older Winchester. However Neville merely nodded, slack-jawed at Dean's sudden attention. Dean guffawed, hardly being able to breathe.

"Dean, shut up." Sam harshly whispered as he watched the mortified man attempt- yet again- to blend into the comforter.

"No way man- that's horrible!" Dean turned to Castiel who had resumed his appreciation of cheese and crackers. "Dude, I think we have enough proof right here showing that there is no God!" Cas cast a disapproving look at the elder Winchester but chose to remain quiet as Sam frantically attempted to perform damage control on the poor Gryffindor who merely sat on the floral comforter and nodded along to Dean, not knowing how else to react.

At that moment, Hermione re-entered the room with a tray full of teacups and various condiments.

"Dean Winchester- you will _not_ make fun of Neville's name. It is rude and very disrespectful! Now say sorry or you get no tea!" Dean immediately stopped, shocked at the woman's audacity to speak to him in such a manner.

"Sorry, sorry! I was just having some innocent fun," he eyed the tea warily. "Can I swap the pansy tea for a beer?" Hermione rolled her eyes as she passed out the cups of tea, which Cas had surprisingly eagerly received. Coming to a stop before Dean with a cup in her dainty hand, she raided her eyebrows at him.

"I think tea should suffice. Also, don't apologise to me- apologise to the mortified boy sitting on the floral comforter." Neville sat up in protest, spilling on hot tea on his lap in the process.

"Boy?! I'm twenty-six!" Hermione shot him a look which shut him up before heading out of the room.

A low whistle sounded throughout the room followed by a loud crunch. Neville, Dean and Sam all turned to the source of the sound and watched as he took a tranquil sip of tea.

"These magic folk are most hospitable, don't you think?"

Sam sighed and took a seat on a wooden chair near the bed as Dean stared intently at the angel before him. Neville merely watched, feeling awkward.

"Cas… what the _hell_ is going on?"

**Reviews are nice and pressure me to write chapters instead of being a model student who does her readings on time! Hehehe. :P**


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